Uniwersytet Rzeszowski
Centrum Dokumentacji Współczesnej Sztuki Sakralnej
pl. Ofiar Getta 4-5/35, 35-002 Rzeszów
tel. +48 17 872 20 98

Janusz Moryc

The John Paul II Catholic University of Lublin 


As a representative of Sarmatian culture, St John of Dukla was depicted in hagiographic and liturgical literature, as well as in iconography, as an ancient hero resplendent with the glow of Christian virtues. This medieval saint, whose popularity has never waned, was perceived as an incarnation of the lofty ideals of piety, mercy, and fervent service to the nation and the Church. To illustrate his spirituality, hagiographers relied on the language and imagery of the Old Testament, referring to the humble Franciscan as “a true Moses and leader of the people”, “the hope of city gates”, or “certain salvation”. The national and Messianic elements that linked the life of St John and the history of his earthly homeland to the history of the Chosen People already figured centrally in the early iconography of the saint, with its most emblematic image of the Defensor Leopolis, but became even more widespread in the 19th and 20th centuries. An analysis in terms of Messianism allows one to rediscover the underappreciated painted life of St John on the walls of the church in Dukla, which in a sense summarizes and recapitulates the motifs of traditional iconography. Created in 1903, this outstanding masterpiece by Tadeusz Popiel highlights the patriotic and Messianic elements that sacralize the past of the nation. The ideological program of the Dukla cycle was influenced by Father Czesław Bogdalski, an enthusiast of the Bernardine order and worshipper of national saints, who authored a popular book on the life and worship of St John. It is his book that seems to have furnished the basis for the iconography of individual paintings.

Keywords: St John of Dukla, Messianism, Sarmatism, iconography, Tadeusz Popiel, Czesław Bogdalski, militarism, sacralization of history


The iconography of St John of Dukla first attracted the attention of monastic scholars because it provided material evidence for the uninterrupted and vibrant cult of their confrere, and thus a weighty argument in the canonization effort.[1] In hagiographic, ascetic and devotional literature, the image of St John was consistently constructed far beyond the confines of his religious order and couched in the vast peculiarities of Polish Sarmatism, an ideology in which service to the homeland and the defense of the Catholic faith came together in an almost organic fashion. An important element of the Sarmatian worldview was its intimate bond with the saints, who were often perceived as Christian incarnations of ancient heroes.[2] The consul of Lviv, Zimorowicz, thus addressed St John of Dukla: “You are the hope of our city gates, which you guard against the Ottoman Porte without respite. You ward off not just the foe, but also the horror of pestilence. Whenever a Turkish attack, a Tatar horde, a Muscovite onslaught, a Moldavian storm would hit […] whenever the neighboring lands would be ravaged by the fires of war and encircle the city with a flaming ring, Lviv always remained untouched under your shield, escaping all danger safe and sound”.[3] Father Bogdalski, on the other hand, clearly linked St John of Dukla, and hence the history of the Polish nation, with the fate of the Chosen People, couching his praise in explicitly biblical terms: “he was like Abraham in noble surrender and like Isaac in his sacrifice to God, like Lot he sought refuge in a convent from the Sodom and Gomorrah of this world, a man after God’s heart, like David […] a true Moses and leader of the people who sought his succor”.[4] An analysis of the iconography of St John of Dukla in terms of Polish patriotism and Messianism thus seems well-warranted and promising. Current research allows us to distinguish two main centers of worship, i.e. Lviv and Dukla, and their distinct imageries. The former, rooted in the original posthumous veneration of John of Dukla that centered on his tomb, elaborated the basic types of iconography, which were later copied throughout the country with only minor modifications. The Mannerist temple around the saint’s tomb in Lviv stood out for its soldierly austerity, owing to the understandable need for fortifications in that extremely turbulent territory. Following the exemplary, pioneering modernization of the church, carried out by the Bernardines to celebrate St John’s beatification at the beginning of the 18th century, Polish art was enriched with a beautiful polychrome and an extensive complex of altars resembling sumptuous and flamboyant theater coulisses, with a central composition suspended over a Renaissance sarcophagus in the form of an elaborate baldachin.[5] The sculptures of the temple, including that of St John of Dukla, are amongst the masterpieces of the 18th century in Europe.[6]

            The Bernardine order launched a campaign for the creation of a cultic center for St John in his hometown of Dukla only after he was beatified in 1733. They received support from the town’s owner, the Grand Marshal of the Crown Józef Mniszech, and the local petty nobility.[7] A church (of no special artistic value) and a small monastery were soon built on a hill near the Hungarian Tract.[8] Their furnishings, only a few elements of which have survived to this day, included valuable sculptures created by the masters of the Lviv school. The Dukla building complex, however, needs to be analyzed in a broader context. It forms an integral whole with a number of unique and picturesque retreats on the slopes of the surrounding mountains, venerated by local tradition as the traces of St John’s eremitic life. In reality, the retreats were first put in place toward the end of the 18th century and later expanded. They owe their exceptional character to the skilful integration, clearly pre-Romantic in spirit, of various art disciplines: architecture, painting, and garden planning, and were made possible by the support of Maria Amalia Mniszech.

            In the first days of 1900, in cooperation with Karol Knaus and Tadeusz Popiel, Father Czesław Bogdalski embarked on a major renovation of the Church of St John of Dukla;[9] he aspired to turn the temple into a stately mausoleum devoted to the blessed compatriot.[10] The project, however, required considerable financial investment. In order to secure the necessary funds, Bogdalski fell back on his superior literary talent, publishing a brochure about the life and worship of St John. The brochure was repeatedly reprinted, and the stories of the friar had an important impact on the final shape of the paintings placed inside the church, which was explicitly mentioned in later editions.[11] Created by Tadeusz Popiel, the paintings can be viewed as a culmination of earlier iconography and a successful step away from Baroque conventions toward a more modern style; they also offer a fresh look at the intriguing medieval figure, now seen through the lens of nascent scholarly reflection. They owe their final shape to the fruitful cooperation between the famous painter and the ambitious, erudite friar. Popiel no doubt appreciated the charm, the extraordinary personality, and the charisma of the preacher and guardian of Dukla; far from contenting himself with standard solutions, he made sure to accurately render nearly every word and emotional shade of his impassioned and dramatic story.

Tadeusz Popiel was born in Szczucin near Tarnów in 1863. He studied painting at the School of Fine Arts in Kraków under the supervision of Władysław Łuszczkiewicz and Jan Matejko, and then continued his education in Munich and Vienna.[12] At the Paris fair of 1890, he won a bronze medal for his painting Moses. Participation in world exhibitions in San Francisco, Chicago, and Philadelphia between 1893 and 1894 brought him further publicity and numerous new commissions.[13] Popiel was hired, for instance, to create paintings for the Tretyakov Palace in Moscow, the music theater in Lviv, the Goetz Palace in Okocim, the Clarissian church in Lviv, and the Church of St Catherine in Saint Petersburg.[14] In 1899, he won a contest to redecorate the Polish Chapel at the Basilica of St Anthony in Padova[15] and, with that in mind, devoted himself to studying the frescoes of Florence, Rome, Venice, and Loreto.[16] To reward his outstanding contributions to sacred art, Pope Pius X honored him with the title of chamberlain di spade e cappa.[17] Even his critics esteemed Popiel’s original contribution to the development of religious painting at the turn of the 19th and 20th century. His was a very peculiar interpretation of current trends. “In his work, a certain Christian mysticism, a poetic sensibility full of Slavic emotional exaltation, insights drawn from a direct contact with nature and religious experience,” Bożena Weber rightly remarks, “meet the Italian patterns of the Quattrocento, with its love for the harmony of lines, warm colors, and refined form, and the influence of the English pre-Raphaelites”.[18] Józef Trepka comments: “Even his earliest studies already showed a striving for sophisticated form, which remained the salient feature of all his later works. No matter what or when emerged from under his brush or pencil, everything was executed con amore, regardless of the work’s size and purpose. This is why his legacy strikes one as very coherent. There are no unmotivated leaps from the mediocre to the superior, from the cursory to the detailed, from the perfunctory to the assiduous, as is so often the case even with works created by very talented painters”.[19] The polychromes of Dukla were made with utmost care; according to the monastic chronicle, Popiel “deliberately sojourned in Italy and Munich to find the most beautiful Renaissance models for the church”.[20] The polychrome was finished in March 1903.[21] Popiel’s stylistic choice, the chronicle further explains, was dictated by the need to adapt the paintings to the new layout of the interior, following a considerable expansion of the church under Knaus. Under Knaus, the temple was converted into a three-nave basilica without a transept and its long chancel was closed off with a semi-circular apse. The architect separated the priestly section from the nave and the apse with pairs of marble wall columns covered with gilded Doric capitals; pairs of marble pilasters were also placed between the arcades of the central nave. The walls were topped with a protruding cornice. New vaults appeared in the interior: buttressed barrel vaults in the central nave and the chancel, and groin vaults in the two side naves. In the extension of the eastern nave, a modest chapel of the blessed John of Dukla was added; the western nave, in turn, now led up to the sacristy.[22] In this new interior, Popiel created a monumental ensemble of eleven paintings: six in the central nave, four in the chancel, and one in the apse; all related in terms of form and content, they add up to a cycle about the life and posthumous worship of St John of Dukla. The ornamental decorations of the two side naves bear the stylistic hallmarks of the neo-Renaissance. The paintings are rounded out by the delicate ornamentation of the vaults and the profiled, gilded frames that surround individual images in the central nave and the chancel. The walls of the apse were covered up with imitations of fabrics, bearing the heraldic motif of the eagle. The paintings in the nave were fitted into small spaces above the arcades, and as a consequence, their lower parts had to be semicircular. The figural compositions in the chancel were placed in large rectangular fields. The axis of the series is The Apotheosis of St John on the vaulting of the apse.

Individual scenes were perfectly thought out in terms of form and content. As visual “quotations” from the fascinating spiritual journey of the son of Dukla bakers, they flesh out a number of themes particularly cherished by the Franciscan order. The western wall features scenes from the early life of St John; the opposite, eastern wall, is dominated by the images of his worship and canonization. The narrative begins near the first southern bay of the nave (near the choir) and follows a chronological sequence that culminates in the central scene of apotheosis in the apse. In the chancel, the direction is reversed; the main events of St John’s worship are illustrated in a series that leads toward the choir, where larger groups of pilgrims and solemn processions can freely pass through the side nave to the chapel of St John. Thematic unity is reinforced by the liturgical antiphon Si requires… written out in capital letters on the frieze that runs around the interior in a line above the paintings.[23]

The cycle starts with On the Way to Baptism [fig. 1]. In the foreground, Popiel showed the family of Dukla bakers and their relatives, and the infant St John resting on baptism cushions. The party stops at the sight of a glowing angel in front of a small church. Holding up a lit candle, the bluish spirit converses with astonished townspeople, and gestures toward the distant horizon at the end of a muddy road between them. The elements of natural landscape in the backdrop, behind the people and their households, mirror the topography of the Sub-Carpathian town of Dukla. The road cuts the painting diagonally into two sections, which increases the symbolic value of the composition. Popiel emphasized the theme of pilgrimage toward the celestial homeland, which first needs to pass through the muddy tracts of a temporal, earthly abode.[24] His skilful brushstrokes expressed the love of the native realm by showing the beauty of its landscape, the charm of old Polish architecture, and even the details of garments worn by the common folk. The picture would not be complete without an old mendicant: an emblematic figure of Polish genre paintings, which can also be read as a personification of the medieval ideal of peregrinatio pro Christo. It seems that the artist followed a vision recounted by father Bogdalski: “we are at the outset of a really beautiful road. Near the entrance to the famous ravine of Dukla, to the left, sits the massive Cergowa mountain. Like an enormous cone, full of grace and poetry, its lofty peak pierces the clouds. The slopes are overgrown with coniferous forests, interspersed with specks of green glades, and flickering here and there with a bush of red viburnum. Down below, the Jasiołka river leaps rapidly from pebble to stone, foams up a little here, murmurs a little there, and strikes against the banks with fury”.[25]

The following scene, At a Hermitage, focuses on promoting the eremitic ethos. St John of Dukla is shown in a mountainous, sylvan setting replete with symbolism [fig. 2]. The initially chaotic space of the wilderness, associated with the reign of the forces of darkness, is rendered orderly and sacred by the asceticism of the hermit: “Quiet all around […] only the trees rustle seriously. The clear mountain air, as it were, spreads a sacred fragrance over the Zaśpit, bringing ineffable peace and quietude to the soul”.[26] His features noble and concentrated, the muscular youth resembles the Angel of the Desert, i.e. St John the Baptist, and this stylistic solution endows St John of Dukla with heroic traits. “A hermit’s life changed him a lot”, narrates Bogdalski, “his disheveled hair fell on an emaciated face and sunken eyes. He was still young, but his unruly beard had already turned silvery here and there […] because even in youth, life’s trials and tribulations often draw a silvery thread to mark their trail”.[27] The ideas of a saving sacrifice and spiritual struggle are symbolized by the wooden beams that the hermit hews and arranges in the shape of a cross.

In The Arrival of the Bernardines in Kraków, Popiel abandoned “the melody of nature, full of harmonious sounds”.[28]and moved the narrative to an urban setting [fig. 3]. The scene is set in front of a Gothic portal, with a subtle outline of buildings in the background, and shows a crowd of human figures: the courtiers of King Casimir the Jagiellonian, who represents the good ruler, and a procession of friars in brown habits led by St John of Capistrano, approaching the monarch.[29] On the right, St John of Dukla is shown as a Kraków student; as reported by Father Bogdalski, he graduated from university in 1453, and could serve as an allegorical figure to represent the academics of Kraków, many of whom took Bernardine vows under the influence of the legate of Capistrano.[30] Novices settled down in a makeshift monastery at the foot of the Wawel hill and, from there, extended their activities to the entire country, which soon won them the moniker of “the Polish Order”. The king, “the chain link between religion and politics”, saw these tireless Charismatics primarily as effective champions of Catholicism in the vast expanses of the Rus.[31] The profound way in which the affairs of the monarchy intertwined with those of the Church is emphasized by two figures: King Casimir the Jagiellonian and Cardinal Zbigniew Oleśnicki, one of the most illustrious politicians of the era.[32] An eminent official, he effectively ran the politics of the Jagiellonian state, on which all of Europe pinned its hopes at the beginning of the 15th century in view of the increasing Turkish threat along its borders.[33] The political and Messianic context of the Capistrano episode can hardly be overestimated. St John of Capistrano enjoyed great authority as an informal general of the order,[34] and thanks to the papal mandate, he was able to use his contacts at European courts in order to establish an anti-Turkish alliance.[35] However, despite its importance for the history of the Bernardine order, the episode was not frequently depicted in painting. Its most representative rendition was painted by Jan Gotard Berkhoff in the 2nd half of the 17th century at the Bernardine monastery in Vilnius.[36] There also exists an unsigned 19th-century replica of the latter, held in the collections of the Lithuanian State Museum in Vilnius.[37]

                The leading motif of The Sermon of St John of Dukla refers to the Bernardine ars praedicandi. The proscenium of this spectacular event bustles with the everyday life of multicultural Lviv. The empty square in the foreground is divided between two colourful groups of townspeople [fig. 4], shown against the backdrop of Roman and Byzantine buildings, respectively. The statuesque figure of St John of Dukla can be seen on the steps of a Gothic church, his arms outstretched in an oratorical gesture; he is surrounded by a tight semicircle of openly rapturous and admiring listeners. Violent negative emotions, on the other hand, accompany a group of townsfolk gathered around an Eastern Orthodox priest. The artist took great care to accurately flesh out the complex context of the Franciscan mission. The sermon takes place outside, as was the practice of the Friars Minor, who put great emphasis on delivering speeches in town squares and marketplaces.[38] Father Bogdalski attributed a similar pastoral strategy to St John of Dukla: “he would often stop in public squares, where he expected to find them, climb on any available podium, and address them with fervor. In this manner, he led thousands of schismatics back to the fold of true Catholic faith. Eastern Orthodox priests first showered him with abuse, then tried to ambush him, and finally cursed him in their churches, but the inhabitants of Lviv rightly hailed him as the apostle of the schismatics”.[39] Fueled by the struggle against religious dissenters, Bernardine preaching indeed took on a polemical and apologetic edge, which only continued the radical approach of the pioneering missionaries active in the times of St John of Capistrano. Owing to the complex geopolitical reality of the Polish state, as well as the intimate relationship that the friars had with the nobility, Bernardine ministry was focused on inculcating the Polish spirit, promoting the idea of Poland as the bulwark of Christianity, and a crusade to protect the country’s borders from infidels.[40]

The painting in question is not very innovative; the Franciscan tradition of portraying sermons dates back to the dawn of the Franciscan order and is extremely rich. The great devotion with which the order approached preaching had to find a nearly monumental reflection in its art,[41] and the history of painting abounds with images of medieval penitential sermons. The most frequent motifs include the curious episodes of St Francis and St Anthony preaching to birds and fish,[42] respectively, but also the spectacular speeches delivered by St Bernardine of Siena and St John of Capistrano.[43] Polish artists eagerly portrayed the sermons of St Simon of Lipnica and Blessed Vladislav of Gielniów,[44] putting special emphasis on their merits for inculcating the native tongue and lifting the morale of the country’s defenders. Determined by the theme and the role of the investor, the Franciscan context was of decisive importance. However, Popiel’s own sensibility, and the sensibilities of his patriotic audiences at the turn of the 19th and the 20th century, were no doubt shaped by an 1864 painting awarded in Paris: The Sermon of Piotr Skarga by Jan Matejko.[45]

In the next painting, the apostolic ideal of vita activa, a life harmoniously integrated with social and patriotic activity, is contrasted with the ideal of vita contemplativa, particularly cherished by the Franciscan order [fig. 5]. In this manner, the two large paintings on the western wall of the chancel form a complementary whole. They are matched by two corresponding military scenes on the opposite wall; one focuses on St John of Dukla’s heroic service as guardian, and the other on the protection he extended over his native realm after death. These compositions flesh out an immensely erudite theological program and define the sacred space of the chancel, additionally set apart by the “4 colossal marble pillars” of the quasi-baldachin of St John of Dukla.[46] The semi-dome of the apse covers the mausoleum as if with a canopy, containing the scene of apotheosis, flanked by illusionistic curtains with the eagle motif.

The painting that shows The Prayer of St John of Dukla strikes one as very intimate. Popiel borrowed from, and modified, the official beatification image of St John, Vera effigies, which, after 1733, was copied in almost all Bernardine centers. The most interesting versions of this rather conventional motif have survived in Leżajsk (1734), Rzeszów, Lublin, Kraków, Przeworsk, Łuków, Krystynopol,[47] Warsaw,[48] Lviv, and Dukla.[49] The prototype, a copperplate by Giovanni Battista Sintes from the document entitled Sacra Rituum Congregatione… Leopolien,… Rome 1732, showed the Mother of God without a crown.[50] In his own modified work, Popiel clothed her in a royal mantle and gave her a crown of the Casimir type. This seemingly minor change reflects the peculiar nature of the Polish cult of Mary, who was venerated both as the Queen of the Polish Crown and the Protector of the Nation. Important acts of surrender to the protection of the Mother of God included the vows of King John Casimir, commemorated in a painting by Jan Matejko, created in 1893 in Lviv. Popiel’s emphasis on the royal authority of Mary has no parallel in any other work of the Vera effigies type, neither in its Baroque, nor contemporary incarnations. The official template remained popular even after St John’s canonization in 1997. The authors of these later “replicas”, however, did not attach any special importance to the royal insignia of Mary and often simply left them out.[51] An interesting reinterpretation of the Roman original can be found in a work by Bronisław Kryszpin from 1815, where the enthroned Madonna is replaced by the Immaculata, and allegorical figures of vanquished errors and heresies can be seen under the feet of St John of Dukla.[52] This particular devotional image relies on an anonymous allegorical diploma of Hieronim Radziwiłł, which also shows personifications of theological virtues behind a kneeling St John, and includes an allegorical figure of Poland as a woman in royal attire. The lower part of the image is taken up by convulsively contorted personifications of evil and heresy, as well as metaphorical images of the deeds of mercy. In the center of the composition, the immaculate virgin is shown wielding a scepter, with a magnificent papal tiara hovering overhead. The work represents the quintessence of Polish Marian devotion, which always had a decidedly military bent. Representing an earlier generation of the Radziwiłł house, Albrycht Stanisław, a diarist, a popular ascetic writer, and a great champion of the cult of Mary as the Queen of Poland, resorts to surprising language of military metaphor, very telling in the context of Sarmatian Mariology, and describes the Mother of Christ, “the antemural of a Sarmatia”, as a tower, a shield, a war drum, a petard, a spiritual armory, and an arsenal.[53]

The Apotheosis of St John imitates typical Baroque compositions. Popiel decorated the conch of the apse with a vision of a serene sky, with angels and saints gathered around the Holy Trinity. The rainbow of the covenant shines at the footstool of the divine throne, also signifying the symbolic terminus of the venerable friar’s life [fig. 6]. The highest point in the sky is reserved for the dove of the Holy Spirit. Pastel clouds spread in a series of concentric circles, and in their outermost and lowest ring, joyful angels lead St John of Dukla toward the face of God. The background is taken up by a group of saints. The champions of Poland can be distinguished by their specific attributes: St Stanislaus, St Adalbert, St Hedwig, St Casimir the Prince, St Hyacinth, St Andrew Bobola, St Jacob Strzemię, and the blessed princesses of the Piast dynasty. The concept of the Coelorum Polonorum was very fashionable throughout enslaved Poland, and Popiel could include St John of Dukla among the highest ranking patrons of the homeland, because two canonical decisions of the Holy See from 1735 and 1739 had proclaimed him as the patron saint of the Crown and of Lithuania and extended his liturgical feast to the entire territory of Poland. Independent of the formal pronouncement, however, the venerable friar had already risen to national rank thanks to his patronage over the brotherhoods of knights and the close ties between the Bernardine order and the Polish nobility in vast areas of the country. The concept of the “Polish Heaven” ignited intense patriotic and religious emotions, further intensified following a departure from Josephinism, and created auspicious conditions for the promotion of national elements in native religious art.[54] A particular role in disseminating the collective image of Polish saints was played by certain publications which satisfied the demand for “religious images, commendable for their low price and good execution”.[55] A case in point is an 1866 lithography by Jędrzej Kostkiewicz, captioned as The Saints and the Blessed of Slavic Originwhich shows St John of Dukla in the company of several important national patron saints: bishops Adalbert and Stanislaus, as well as St Hedwig. In 1905, Włodzimierz Tetmajer put the finishing touches to a vision of the “Polish Heaven” on the vaulting of the Wawel chapel of Queen Sophia; its large group of national heroes also included St John of Dukla. The artist showed St John in the company of John III Sobieski, the conqueror of the Turks, perhaps looking to stress the idea of chivalry that went hand in hand with the concept of Poland as the bulwark of Christianity championed by the Bernardine order.[56] A triumphant procession of Polish saints from 1925 also decorates the chancel of the Jesuit church in Kopernika Street in Kraków. The authors of the mosaic, Piotr Stachiewicz and Leonard Stroynowski, depicted a long procession of national patron saints, among them St John of Dukla, shown kneeling, with his hands in a typical prayerful gesture. Similar compositions were also created abroad in major Polish Diaspora centers, e.g. in the Polish House in Jerusalem and the Church of St Joachim in Rome. Popiel himself first painted a “Polish Heaven” with St John of Dukla in Padova, where it forms an integral part of the painting complex in the Polish chapel.[57]

The iconographic type in question, a rather liberal transformation of the medieval motif of communion sanctorum coupled with the theme of the “Polish Heaven”, was already anticipated in medieval and Baroque compositions. However, national and patriotic elements, though occasionally present in late Baroque art, only reached the height of popularity in religious art at the turn of the 19th and 20th century.[58]

            The Defense of Lviv in 1474 opens the series of paintings on the eastern wall. Popiel’s goal was to show an interplay of various emotions in diagonally carved out sections of the composition [fig. 7]. Dominated by a Gothic church facade, from which St John of Dukla emerges with the Sanctissimum, the upper section emanates with great spiritual peace, a nearly sacred silence. A group of acolytes, on their knees, with hands clasped together in prayer and heads hung low, seem totally oblivious to the tumult of battle that rages around them. St John and the friars who accompany him also lower their heads in calm concentration. One holds up a banner with the image of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The little town square in the painting is strewn with the corpses of the fallen and the bodies of the wounded. The dynamic center of the scene is occupied by the figure of a tall man; fury emanates from his face and his tense muscular body as he braces himself to deliver a massive blow with his axe. The figure, it seems, is meant as a metaphor for the superhuman and supernatural power born from the mysterious ritual of prayer. Pulsing with contradictory emotions, the composition was probably meant as a visual echo of Father Bogdalski’s narrative: “the city, it seemed, would soon fall to the enemy. A great black Muslim horde pressed against the Bernardine church and monastery, still huddled by the ramparts, but now a little better fortified, looking to burn them and thus break into the city. The besieged forces of the friars and a handful of lay people nearly all surrendered; with the last ounce of strength, a few of the most valiant defended the palisades, where the savage Tatars showed up with increasing frequency. At this perilous moment, St John of Dukla […] emerged with the Holy Sacrament, blessing those still fighting for the church. The Tatars shuddered at the sight, the besieged were filled with courage […] and prevailed! St John of Dukla was then hailed by the people of Lviv as the ‘conqueror of the Turks’”.[59]

                Even though he knew the topography of Lviv in detail, the artist only chose to signal the general strategic location of the monastery and the militaristic, patriotic attitude of the Bernardines. Devoid of windows, unornamented, the church takes on an austere and defensive look. Nothing but a small town square separates the massive walls of the church and the city fortifications.[60] The encastellation of monasteries on the eastern flank of Poland was forced by its role as the “bulwark of Christianity”; strategically placed outposts routinely received the status of fortresses. Viewed from the outside, monasteries resembled strongholds equipped with all the necessary military infrastructure.[61] The friars themselves carried arms; the saber became a permanent fixture of the Bernardine outfit in the dangerous borderland, alongside the Seraphic cingulum and lace.[62] The composition in question is a pioneering accomplishment, since there were no prior drawings or painting of the theme for Popiel to fall back upon. In his search for ideas and formal inspiration, he could only rely on the images of the Battle of Belgrade, with their characteristic scenes of Turks swarming under the feet of the legate of Capistrano. Bernardine monasteries highly appreciated the propaganda value and the striking power of these depictions.[63] To supplement this military context, Popiel and his mentor drew from the rich iconography of St Anthony and St Clara.[64] The Dukla painting abounds with explicit references to earlier scenes, which showed the Saracens driven off the ramparts of Assisi by St Clara through the power of the Sanctissimum.[65] Particularly strong analogies can be seen with a Baroque image by Francesco de Mura in the Church of St Clara in Naples, where the dynamic tumult of swirling invaders is contrasted with the peacefulness of a statue-like Clara and two nuns kneeling behind her.[66] Compositions that aimed to commemorate the miraculous diversion of danger thanks to the valiance and faith of a hero using an effective palladium were shaped by various vital iconographic currents of the West and East and, in Poland, found their fullest expression in historical painting. The most representative examples of this kind include paintings of the defense of Jasna Góra under the heroic leadership of Father Augustyn Kordecki.[67] Masterpieces by painters such as January Suchodolski and Franciszek Kondratowicz shaped the imagination of the Polish people especially under the partitions. No wonder, then, that the figure of St John of Dukla was often built along the lines of a heroic defender of faith and freedom, in accordance with models elaborated in popular engravings that touched the hearts of multitudes. Popiel shared a profound patriotic sensibility and certainly had a good grasp of contemporary trends in historical and religious painting. In the composition of Dukla, he skillfully struck the most sensitive chords of the Polish longing for freedom, making his own priceless contribution to the Polish current of paintings meant “to embolden the hearts”.[68]

            The next painting on the eastern wall of the chancel tells of The Miraculous Saving of Lviv by St John of Dukla in 1648 [fig. 8]. In the foreground, Cossack and Tatar troops are crowded together, with the salient figure of hetman Bogdan Chmielnicki in the middle. Banners flap overhead and the background fades off into an outline of a castle hill with visible fortifications. The topography of the town was rendered in great detail; a figure in a Bernardine habit is suspended above the building, with arms raised in a ritual gesture of prayer. Here, too, as in the previous composition, we are struck by the dynamism of formal solutions but, above all, by the skilful handling of emotions. Resting on serene clouds, the saint radiates majesty and calm, but the troops below are riven by terror. Groups and individual figures seem natural and unrestrained as Popiel’s skilful brush follows the florid, racy narrative of Father Bogdalski: “Terror reigned in the city. Bread and ammunition were running low, and the water was scarce, no more than what the few city wells had to give […] With beclouded foreheads, the people braced for defense – but with no hope of salvation. The next day, they felt, would be their last, opening […] graves for the city defenders. Even the heavens seemed to presage a sorry ending to this desperate fight. Clouds as black as night hung low over Lviv […]. And then… a great flame shone forth from the darkest heaps of clouds. No thunder, no lightning, but a circle of light, huge and magnificent like a golden halo woven from the threads of the sun, and inside, menacing, his face turned to the foe […] the figure of the blessed John of Dukla appeared. Chmielnicki saw him and, struck with terror, nearly fell of his horse. […] Full of horror and confusion, the Cossacks took flight. The ranks broke, defense lines were recaptured, extreme turmoil reigned. But the people of Lviv also spotted John of Dukla in the clouds, surrounded with a glorious halo”.[69] The episode of 1648 had a decisive impact on the dynamic and scope of the cult of St John of Dukla; his role as the miraculous defender of Lviv particularly resonated with the knighthood. This interest was reinforced by the military disposition of the Bernardines, in whose ranks “the hero that called to battle was animated whenever the pulpit of the Marian sanctuary reverberated with oratorical phrases about the new Hercules, extolling the valor of Polish military leaders and soldiers, and the virtues of the patron saints of the Kingdom of Poland”.[70] The Bernardines became intimate with the military through their ardent service as chaplains; they also took spiritual care of the soldiers, given over to the protection of Archangel Michael and St John of Dukla.[71]

Popiel first dealt with the theme in the Clarissian church in Lviv in 1898. His imagination was probably inspired by earlier works devoted to the event such as, for instance, the commemorative sliver plaque sponsored by the burghers of Lviv in 1648 or its later easel painting equivalent.[72] Both compositions, as well as their lesser replicas, stand out for their detailed rendition of the panorama of Lviv and its surroundings, as well as the oversized figure of St John, shown kneeling on the clouds in prayer; the 17th-century painting also depicts enemy hordes pushing against the city walls from all sides. The theme was even more popular among sculptors. As the cult of St John of Dukla intensified, statues appeared near Bernardine monasteries, in which he was modeled on the Defensor Leopolis from the memorable vision of 1648. Attention in these sculptures is exclusively focused on the praying Bernardine; the topographic and military context is left out. A sculpture by Tomasz Hutter is a flagship work of this kind , which is found at the top of the Baroque baldachin over the tomb of St John of Dukla and its mirror image on the lean votive column in front of the church.

It is clear that Popiel knew of these works, and yet he decided to model his Dukla composition on a painting by his master, Jan Matejko, entitled Bohdan Chmielnicki with the Tugay Bey in Lviv. The famous Polish painter often filled his historical canvases with saints and religious symbols to indicate the role of Providence in shaping history.[73] The painting in question was privately commissioned in 1885 and initially belonged to the Warsaw collection of Ludwik Temler; having changed hands several times, it was finally taken in by the National Museum in Warsaw. Matejko took up the theme of Bohdan Chmielnicki on more than one occasion. Meant as his personal contribution to the historiosophical debate on the fate of nations, the 1885 composition also conjures up the momentous and heartening event from the history of Lviv. Matejko was an honorary citizen of the city and, it is worth mentioning, liked the inhabitants of the Galician capital very much, as evidenced by the stipends he funded for its artistically gifted youth, Ukrainian and Polish alike.[74]

The defense of Lviv later resurfaced as a theme in the works of Władysław Lisowski, Włodzimierz Tetmajer, and Karol Polityński. In 1931, Lisowski decorated the walls of a small church in Trzciana with a rather liberal imitation of Popiel’s Dukla version of The Defense of Lviv in 1474. Constrained by the cramped interior of the church, however, he had to reduce the size of his painting considerably. The miraculous defense of Lviv in 1648, on the other hand, was taken up by Włodzimierz Tetmajer in the Bernardine basilica in Kalwaria Zebrzydowska. Unfortunately, the untimely death of the artist interrupted the work while still in progress. The designs were continued by Karol Polityński in 1922-1923. The latter focused on the figures of Bohdan Chmielnicki and Tugay Bey, who are shown on horseback, while a random peasant in Hutsul dress shows them the way to Lviv. The figure of a praying St John of Dukla can be discerned in the sky.[75][i]

The Proclamation of the Beatification Decree takes place in the interior of St Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican [fig. 9]. The dimness of the vast interior is lit up with the golden columns of Bernini. Surrounded by his cardinals, Pope Clemens XII sits on the throne, while one of the bishops reads the beatification decree. The artist wanted to emphasize the solemn, stately, ecclesiastical nature of the act, which had been sought not only by the Franciscan order, but also by the Polish monarch, his senators, bishops, and knights. To do so, Popiel placed a group of friars in brown habits in the center of the composition, surrounded by state dignitaries and representatives of the Polish Church hierarchy. “The ardent wish of the nation”, Bogdalski reports, “was granted. The veneration of the Servant of God, dating as far back as the 15th century, was confirmed by the infallible verdict of the Holy See; John of Dukla was beatified and elevated to the altars, finally recognized as a patron of the entire nation”[76]. Following Father Bogdalski, whose activity as a writer and historian consistently focused on emphasizing the attachment of the Bernardines to the Holy See, Popiel affirmed the Catholicism of the nation and the friars. In the 18th century, the latter had particular reasons to be satisfied with their close ties to Rome; many of their venerable confreres were elevated to the altars and many Marian images crowned in their sanctuaries at that time[77].

The 400thAnniversary of the Passing of John of Dukla is the focus of the next scene. Popiel wanted to emphasize the national and patriotic dimension of the event [fig. 10]. He accurately picked the motif of a solemn procession as best suited to Bernardine piety. Ever since their beginnings on Polish soil, the friars made a huge impression with their processions, as scrupulously reported by Jan of Komorowo in his account of the welcoming of Elizabeth of Austria[78]. The Baroque “feast culture” considered them even more important. “Today”, writes Kantak, “it is difficult for us to imagine the picturesque flavor and diversity of these processions. In the front, right behind the cross, brotherhoods and guilds, identified by badges, paraded in their typical attire, followed by religious orders in habits white, black, gray, and grizzly, lay priests in surplices, prelates in purple, and, bringing up the rear, a celebrant in a richly gilded cape, with his retinue in dalmatics, or better yet, a bishop or an abbot. […] Banners flapped overhead. Behind walked a line of nobles in kontushes, with sabers strapped to their sides, burghers in festive attire, and peasants in colorful folk clothes”[79]. Even though spatial constraints did not permit him to show the full Baroque pomp and grandeur of the celebrations, Popiel’s small composition is skillfully dynamized thanks to the measured rhythm of huddled figures, each with a face of its own, and the pulsating blots of stylized, colorful historical clothes, banners, and decorations. The artist showed Father Bogdalski among the celebrants and placed his own portrait in the right-hand corner of the painting. The composition resembles a chronicle entry and attempts to convey the mood of the memorable event, even though Father Bogdalski once confessed with great emotion: “No pen can ever express the impact of this triumphant procession”[80]. Triumphant processions and marches of this kind have always served as peculiarly effective tools of social influence. In 19th-century Poland, this role was primarily played by solemn funerals, which emboldened the hearts of the people and rallied the nation around its great heroes, at the same time inflaming the imagination of artists[81].

The narrative cycle ends with the Prayers at the Tomb of John of Dukla [fig. 11]. The plot is set inside a church. An outline of the retable can be discerned in the dimness of the interior and a group of men and women are turned toward it in prayer. The artist deliberately invoked only the most important element of the elaborate stone sarcophagus from 1608, with an image of the famous Bernardine sculpted by Wojciech Kampinos[82]. The tomb could be accessed from the choir. To render the mystical mood of half-light, Popiel used a dimmed color palette. In the place of the antependium above the ascetic sarcophagus, he showed the altar stone flanked by two marble columns with vases, bringing out their symbolic function, i.e. the associations commonly used in the iconography of saints, especially St John of Dukla, who were understood as “the pillar and foundation of the truth” (1 Tm 3, 15). The vases bring to mind the metaphor of the chosen vessel. The floor, on the other hand, is covered with a patterned Eastern carpet, which represents the victory of Christianity over the Turkish might in traditional Marian iconography[83]. The visual narrative follows the vivid, detailed story of Father Bogdalski: “from then on, the worship of John of Dukla grew beyond measure, and pilgrimage after pilgrimage flocked to the tomb of the blessed man […]. The peasant folk came, and wealthy burghers crowded at the site; the knighthood was seen more and more often, as were the highest dignitaries of the state”[84]. On successive pages, Father Bogdalski enumerates the rulers of Poland who also visited the grave of St John: Sigismund II, John Casimir, Michał Korybut Wiśniowiecki with his wife Elizabeth, and John III Sobieski. Enraptured, he praises the tomb of the “Thaumaturge of Rus”, recalling the “days of terror and salvation”, when the city turned for protection to “the first chief of the city guard”; this was the honorary title that the people of Lviv conferred on their defender in the votive plaque of 1649. [U1] Father Bogdalski’s story ends with the stanzas of Domus Virtutis: “And rightly do the kings lay their scepters at your tomb, the hetmans their bulawas, the victorious their standards, the consuls their staffs, the newly-weds their wreaths, the weak their illnesses, and the healthy their gifts”[85].

The motif of prayers at the tomb of St John of Dukla first appeared in 17th-century illustrations of miracles called Miracula b. Joannis. Examples have survived in the chancel of the Lvivian church, in the close vicinity of the tomb of St John, supplemented with relevant inscriptions that specify the personal data, the time and the place of received grace. This illustrated registry of miracles is a priceless record of the highs and lows of Sarmatian culture: the design of interiors, typical clothes, as well as people’s attitudes toward the vagaries of fate, illness, and misfortune[86]. Some of them reflect a convergence of the purely religious dimension of the cult with its social and political context, including the highest-ranking people in positions of office and power in the state. Among the works in this category is a votive painting of King John Casimir attending a mass at the tomb of St John. A Latin inscription in the lower section of the composition explains that the king is giving thanks to the Thaumaturge of Rus, who saved his life near the coast of Marseille and cured his fatal sickness. The upper section shows an exchange of gifts. St John appears in a cloud to receive the relics of St Stephen of Hungary, handed to him by an eagle through a vellum with the words “ex voto”. At the same time, with a gesture of his right hand, St John delegates an angel who presents the king with a shield and a sword bearing the words “tria vita argumenta”.

Thanks to his fascinating cooperation with Tadeusz Popiel, Father Bogdalski, tirelessly intent on renovating the Dukla sanctuary, an excellent writer, publicist and preacher, succeeded in the ambitious task of reviving the cult of his medieval confrere through the power of art. As attested by Józef Trepka, Father Bogdalski worked not only with an exquisite painter, but also with a man of profound faith and a zealous patriot: “Popiel rarely broached any subject other than art or other related topics. This time, however, we turned to discuss the current affairs of great importance to the whole of Poland. Popiel talked a lot, which was out of character for him. His every word spelled a fervent love of Poland, a profound faith in its power, and a good hope for the future”[87]. Father Bogdalski’s inventiveness did not lead to the creation of a new iconographic canon for the medieval saint. However, his attempts to reconstruct the austere simplicity of the medieval hermitage and monastery and to uncover the historical reality behind the local legend, also involved an effort to free the image of St John of Dukla from the Sarmatian pomp and Baroque theatricality that typified the church of Lviv. Dukla is home to the only such monumental painted life of St John that summarizes and recapitulates the rich store of traditional iconography. The work explicitly emphasizes patriotic and messianic elements, extolling the beauty of the native landscape and historical dress, derived directly from the tradition of the Sarmatian nobility. St John is endowed with heroic features, shown as the patron and leader of the Sarmatian knighthood, devotedly guarding the perilous borders of the bulwark of Christianity. The humble missionary and preacher is at once a hero and a miracle-worker, whose supernatural power and authority are recognized not only by the common folk, but also by nobles and monarchs. The canonical template of the Vera Effigies, dominant among traditional images of the saint, underwent an important transformation; it now accentuated elements of militarism and the royal status of Mary, intensified after the Bar Confederation and the January Uprising. As shown in Dukla, the life of St John is inscribed into the history of the homeland and adds a sacred dimension to the past of the nation and its people.


[1] The iconography of St John of Dukla is extensively documented in the preserved writings of Father Kajetan Grudziński, whose painstaking research once furnished priceless evidence for the champions of canonization. A critical edition of the evidence was published by historian Father Wiesław Franciszek Murawiec in the Positio documents, as well as in a popular book: H.E. Wyczawski, W.F. Murawiec, Święty Jan z Dukli, Kalwaria Zebrzydowska 1997. One chapter of the book is dedicated to the iconography of St John and supplemented with appendices, including maps and tables, which show the centers and manifestations of his worship, such as churches, shrines, statues, paintings, reliquaries, and liturgical equipment. Other noteworthy publications include articles by art historians: Andrzej E. Obruśnik, Ikonografia św. Jana z Dukli. Wybrane zagadnienia, “Przegląd Kalwaryjski”, 2005, vol. 9, pp. 7–50, Bożena Weber: Geneza i znaczenie polichromii Tadeusza Popiela w kościele OO. Bernardynów w Dukli, “Przegląd Kalwaryjski”, 2005, vol. 9, pp. 50–60, Jakub Sito, Lwowska konfesja Bł. Jana z Dukli, in: Studia nad sztuką renesansu i baroku, ed. J. Lileyko, vol. 4, Lublin 2000, pp. 159–192. The 600th anniversary of St John of Dukla’s birth witnessed the publication of an interesting album Idę do Ciebie Janie, ed. D. Godzik, Dukla 2014, which contained many photographs of the most valuable works of art dedicated to St John.

[2] B. Biedrońska-Słota, Sarmackie sny o potędze, in: Sarmatyzm. Sny o potędze, ed. B. Biedrońska-Słota, Kraków 2010, p. 25.

[3] C. Bogdalski, Błogosławiony Jan z Dukli. Wspomnienia z jego życia i czci pośmiertnej, Dukla 1938, p. 36.

[4] Ibidem, p. 28

[5] Sito 2000 (fn. 1), p. 159; idem, Thomas Hutter (1696–1745), rzeźbiarz późnego baroku, Warszawa 2001, pp. 46–47; P. Krasny, Lwowskie środowisko artystyczne wobec idei symbiozy sztuk w wystroju i wyposażeniu wnętrz sakralnych (1730–1780), “Rocznik Historii Sztuki” 30, 2005, pp. 147–189; T. Mańkowski, Giuseppe Carlo Pedretti i jego polski uczeń, “Biuletyn Historii Sztuki” 16, 1954, vol. 2, pp. 251–257; J. Dzik, Euntes in mundum universum praedicate Evangelium: programy ideowe osiemnastowiecznych malowideł kościołów zakonnych na ziemiach południowo-wschodnich dawnej Rzeczypospolitej, Kraków 2014, pp. 44–61.

[6] J. Kowalczyk, Świątynie późnobarokowe na Kresach, Warszawa 2006, p. 57; idem, Geografia lwowskiej rzeźby rokokowej, w: Rokoko. Studia nad sztuką I połowy XVIII w., Warszawa 1970, pp. 199–217.

[7] H. Gapski, Fundatorstwo klasztorów bernardyńskich w epoce saskiej, “Summarium” 21, 1972, vol. 1, pp. 66–72.

[8] E. Świeykowski, Studya do hystoryi sztuki i kultury wieku XVII w Polsce, vol. 1: Monografia Dukli, Kraków 1903, pp. 30–45.

[9] Archives of the Bernardine Province of Kraków (hereafter: ABPK), manuscript III-34, Akta różne klasztoru OO. Bernardynów w Dukli 1707–1947, vol. 1, p. 325, Kosztorys przybliżony na roboty ochronne i restauracyjne Kościoła Klasztornego Konwentu OO Bernardynów w Dukli.

[10] Weber 2005 (fn. 1), pp. 50–60.

[11] Słownik polskich pisarzy franciszkańskich, ed. E. Wyczawski, Warszawa 1981, pp. 61–66; Bogdalski 1938 (fn. 3), p. 69.

[12] T. Dobrowolski, Sztuka Młodej Polski, Warszawa 1983, p. 272; A. Wierzbicka, Popiel (Sulima Popiel) Tadeusz, in: Słownik artystów polskich i obcych w Polsce działających, vol. 7, Warszawa 2003, pp. 398–404; Artyści ze szkoły Jana Matejki, exhibition catalogue, ed. W. Nagengast, Katowice 2004, pp. 160–162.

[13] Polski słownik biograficzny, vol. XXVII, Warszawa–Kraków 1982, p. 579.

[14] In the end, religious painting became the central fixture of Popiel’s art; in his relatively short lifetime, he created paintings and polychromes for more than 40 churches, cf. Dobrowolski 1983 (fn. 12), p. 272.

[15] J. Kowalczyk, Kaplica Polska św. Stanisława biskupa w Padwie z końca XIX w., “Studia Franciszkańskie”, vol. 19, Poznań 2009, pp. 223–271.

[16] Alongside the polychrome for the Polish Chapel, Popiel also drew up designs for the Dutch Chapel, but these were never used. He did, however, create paintings in Ponte di Brenta, in Arcella, and in Cortile San Damaso in the Vatican; cf. ibidem, p. 224.

[17] Ibidem, p. 225.

[18] Weber 2005 (fn. 10), p. 58.

[19] J. Trepka, Tadeusz Popiel, “Czas Krakowski” 1913, vol. 103, p. 4.

[20] ABPK, manuscript RGP–f-3, fols. 973–975, Letter by Czesław Bogdalski to the Provincial Superior in Lviv from 21 April 1903.

[21] Weber 2005 (fn. 10), p. 59.

[22] Świeykowski 1903 (fn. 8), p. 146.

[23] The text can be found in: Modlitwy i zwyczaje oo. Bernardynów, Kalwaria Zebrzydowska 1987, pp. 282–283.

[24] A. Gurewicz, Kategorie kultury średniowiecznej, Warszawa 1976, p. 76.

[25] Bogdalski 1938 (fn. 3), p. 58.

[26] Ibidem, p. 15.

[27] Ibidem, p. 13.

[28] Ibidem, p. 16.

[29] A. Lissowska, Antyhusycka działalność Jana Kapistrana na Śląsku, in: Bernardyni na Śląsku w późnym średniowieczu, ed. J. Kostowski, Wrocław 2005, p. 60.

[30] M. Maciszewska, Klasztor bernardyński w społeczeństwie polskim 1453–1530, Warszawa 2001, pp. 119–173; H. Gapski, Profesi bernardyńscy konwentu krakowskiego w latach 1578–1650. Na podstawie księgi profesji, “Roczniki Humanistyczne” 23, 1975, vol. 2, p. 95.

[31] A.K. Sitnik, Bernardyni lwowscy, historia kościoła i klasztoru pod wezwaniem świętych Bernardyna ze Sieny i Andrzeja Apostoła we Lwowie (1460–1785), Kalwaria Zebrzydowska 2006, pp. 35–42; W. Murawiec, Misja wschodnia Zakonu Braci Mniejszych zwanych bernardynami i ich obecność w diecezji kamieniecko-podolskiej, w: Pasterz i twierdza. Księga jubileuszowa dedykowana księdzu biskupowi Janowi Olszańskiemu ordynariuszowi diecezji w Kamieńcu Podolskim, ed. J. Wołczański, Kraków–Kamieniec Podolski 2001, pp. 113–133.

[32] K.R. Prokop, Polscy kardynałowie, Kraków 2001, pp. 17–30; P. Biliński, Żywoty sławnych biskupów krakowskich, Kraków 1998, pp. 28–33.

[33] J. Kłoczowski, Dzieje chrześcijaństwa polskiego, Paryż 1987, p. 79.

[34] J. Kłoczowski, Wspólnoty zakonne w sredniowiecznej Polsce, Lublin 2010, pp. 261–263.

[35] P. Oszczanowski, Czego nie widać na obrazie Michała Leopolda Willmanna z przedstawieniem św. Jana Kapistrana?, in: Fides et Scientia. Wokół obrazu Michała Leopolda Willmanna – Św. Jan Kapistran, ed. P. Oszczanowski, Wrocław 2011, pp. 97–123.

[36] R. Janoniene, Bernardinų bažnyčia ir konventas Vilniuje, Vilnius 2010, pp. 245–249 and fig. 4.62.

[37] The background shows a sermon delivered by St John of Capistrano and the episode of burning luxury items. A reproduction can be found in: R. Gustaw, K. Grudziński, Święty Szymon z Lipnicy, Kalwaria Zebrzydowska 2007; R. Janoniene, Kościół bernardyński, Wilno 2010, p. 10.

[38] A. Gemelli, Franciszkanizm, Warszawa 1988, p. 103; A. Szulc, Reduc me in memoriam. Wokół nurtu pasyjnego średniowiecznych kazań bernardyńskich, in: Bernardyni na Śląsku w późnym średniowieczu, ed. J. Kostowski, Wrocław 2005, p. 158; T. Chrzanowski, M. Kornecki, Sztuka ziemi krakowskiej, Kraków 1982, pp. 54–55.

[39] Bogdalski 1938 (fn. 3), p. 29.

[40] J. Związek, Katolickie poglądy religijno-społeczne w Polsce na przełomie XVI i XVII w. w świetle kazań, Lublin 1977, p. 113; S. Litak, Od reformacji do oświecenia. Kościół katolicki w Polsce nowożytnej, Lublin 1994, p. 113; K.J. Grudziński, A.K. Sitnik, Bernardyni w służbie ojczyzny 1453–1953, Kalwaria Zebrzydowska 2015, p. 72.

[41] A. Perrig, Malarstwo i rzeźba późnego średniowiecza, w: Renesans w sztuce włoskiej, ed. F. Toman, Kraków 2007, pp. 49–52.

[42] R. Russo, Il ciclo francescano nella Chiesa del Gesu in Roma, Roma 2001, pp. 75–79; J.M. Polidoro, Franciszek, Gorle 1999, pp. 90–91, 205–206; K.H. Fiore, Paolo Veronese, La predica di Sant Antonio ai pesci. Spunti di riflessione per una rilettura dipinto ristaurato, Roma 2001.

[43] M.A. Pavone, Iconologia Francescana il quattrocento, Todi 1988, pp. 48–52; A. del Vasto, La Chiesa di S. Francesco d’Assisi e Ripa Grande e i suoi Santi, Roma 2009, pp. 37–40. A rich collection of this type of composition can be found in the Franciscan museum in Rome, cf. Il Museo Francescano, Catalogo, eds. P. Gerlach, S. Gibien, M. D’Altari, Roma 1973, p. 35, fig. 38.

[44] A.E. Obruśnik, Święty Szymona z Lipnicy mistrz życia wewnętrznego, in: Świętość zrodzona z miłości, Materiały z sesji naukowej o Szymonie z Lipnicy (1435, 1482), Kalwaria Zebrzydowska 2007, pp. 46–48.

[45] M. Zgórniak, Jan Matejko, Kalendarium życia i twórczości, Kraków, 2004, pp. 18–19.

[46] Bogdalski 1938 (fn. 3), p. 69

[47] Dzik 2014 (fn. 5), p. 85.

[48] D. Kaczmarzyk, Kościół św. Anny, Warszawa 1894, pp. 208–209.

[49] O.D. Mańkut, Zofia z Fredrów Szeptycka. Duchowy portret Matki, Bartoszyce 2014, p. 59.

[50] A. Kramiszewska, Visio religiosa w polskiej sztuce barokowej, Lublin 2003, pp. 30–31, 76–77.

[51] The composition was copied by Lisowski; the painting can now be found in the collections of the Museum of the Bernardine Province in Leżajsk. Popiel himself reused the motif in question in a blind stained-glass window in the Cathedral of Przemyśl, cf. S.J. Burda, Dzieje kultu bł. Jakuba Strzemię w XX w., Lublin 2009, fig. 67.

[52] Wyczawski, Murawiec 1997 (fn. 1), p. 66.

[53] B. Łukarska, Symbolika maryjna w wybranych tekstach polskiego średniowiecza i baroku, in: “Świat i Słowo” 2 (15), 2010, pp. 181–182.

[54] S. Goszczyński, O potrzebie malarstwa narodowego, in: Z dziejów polskiej krytyki i teorii sztuki, eds. I. Grabska, S. Morawski, vol. 1, Warszawa 1961, p. 43; D. Olszewski, Polska kultura religijna na przełomie XIX i XX wieku, Warszawa 1996, pp. 201–204.

[55] J. Wolańska, Obrazki religijne zalecające się taniością i dobrem wykonaniem” wykonane przez Towarzystwo Świętego Łukasza w Krakowie, w: Sztuka sakralna Krakowa w wieku XIX, part 3, Kraków 2010 (= Ars vetus et nova, ed. W. Bałus, vol. 30), p. 57.

[56] J.A. Nowobilski, Sakralne malarstwo ścienne Włodzimierza Tetmajera, Kraków 1994, pp. 32–33.

[57] Kowalczyk 2009 (fn. 15), pp. 238–239.

[58] A. Witkowska, Sancti. Miracula. Peregrinationes, Lublin 2009, pp. 13–29; H. de Lubac, Kopuła świętego Piotra, “Kronos. Metafizyka – Kultura – Religia” 2 (29), 2014, p. 246.

[59] C. Bogdalski, Bernardyni w Polsce 1453–1530, vol. 2, Kraków 1933, p. 76.

[60] Sitnik 2006 (fn. 31), pp. 76–84.

[61] ABPK, manuscript XXII-J-1, Inwentarze, fol. 18v.

[62] Grudziński, Sitnik 2015 (fn. 40), pp. 70–72.

[63] Oszczanowski 2011 (fn. 35), p. 118.

[64] The sacristy of the Basilica of St Anthony and the oratory of St George contain images that illustrate the miraculous intervention of St Anthony to liberate Padova from the tyrannical rule of Ezzelino.

[65] J. Staszewski, Uratowanie Asyżu i klasztoru San Damian za sprawą modlitwy św. Klary. Studium ikonograficzno-ikonologiczne, “Studia Franciszkańskie”, 2002, vol. 12, pp. 580–597; L. Bacaloni, Santa Chiara nell’arte, in: Studi e cronica del VII centuario 1253–1953, Perugia 1954, p. 211; U. Mazurczak, Ikonografia Dunsa Szkota w sztuce europejskiej. Wizerunek uczonego w studiolo w Urbino, in: Błogosławiony Jan Duns Szkot 1308–2008, Lublin 2010, p. 744, fig. 2; B. Pesci, Basilica di S. Antonio al. Laterano – Roma, Roma 2000, p. 15.

[66] K. van Dooren, I disegni del Museo francescano di Roma, Catalogo-II, Roma 1997, pp. 41–42, 79; Pesci 2000 (fn. 60), p. 15;

[67] J. Samek, J. Zbudniewek, Klejnoty Jasnej Góry, Warszawa 1983, pp. 10, 70–73; K. Szafraniec, O. Augustyn Kordecki w świetle duchowości paulinów polskich XVII w., Warszawa 1970, pp. 67–68.

[68] Nowobilski 1994 (fn. 51), pp. 132–133.

[69] Bogdalski 1938 (fn. 3), p. 80.

[70] J. Banach, Herkules Polonus, Studium z ikonografii sztuki nowożytnej, Warszawa 1984, p. 147.

[71] Wyczawski, Murawiec 1997 (fn. 1), pp. 81–82.

[72] The work is now part of the collections of the Museum of the Bernardine Province in Leżajsk.

[73] L. Lameński, O mistycyzmie w malarstwie polskim XIX i XX wieku słów kilka, in: Wokół mistycyzmu w sztuce, ed. R. Mirończuk, Siedlce 2010, pp. 102–105.

[74] Artyści ze szkoły… 2004 (fn. 12), pp. 22, 25.

[75] Nowobilski 1994 (fn. 51), pp. 90–91.

[76] Bogdalski 1933 (fn. 58), p. 85.

[77] K. Kantak, Bernardyni polscy, vol. 2, Lwów 1933, pp. 435, 476.

[78] Jan z Komorowa, Memoriale Ordinis Fratrum Minorum, Wyd. X. Liske, A. Lorkiewicz, in: Monumenta Poloniae Historica, vol. 5, Lwów 1886, pp. 171–172.

[79] Kantak 1933 (fn. 77), p. 276.

[80] Bogdalski 1938 (fn. 3), s. 58.

[81] M. Rokosz, Kiedy z Wawelu odzywa się “Zygmunt”?, “Alma Mater”, 2010, vol. 125, pp. 17–18.

[82] T. Mańkowski, Bernardyńskie pomniki grobowe, “Prace Komisji Historii Sztuki PAU”, vol. IX, Kraków 1948/9, pp. 194, 197.

[83] F. Pellegrino, Geografia i imaginacja, Warszawa 2009, p. 114.

[84] Bogdalski 1938 (fn. 3), p. 81.

[85] Ibidem, p. 36.

[86] The closest analogy to Lviv’s miracula can be found in the rich collections of votive images in Piotrawin, Rzeszów, and Gidle, cf. R. Brykowski, Obrazki wotywne z Piotrawina, in: Granice sztuki, eds. J. Białostocki et al., Warszawa 1972, pp. 175–190.

[87] Trepka 1913 (fn. 19), p. 4.

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